The Road
by pia-lexandra
Summary: Team Family drabble series, AU after WHAWGO. Cute family fluff mixed in with gritty realism about life on the road. Don't be surprised if I find a way to introduce a few Virginians along the way
1. Chapter 1: Prelude

A/N: Prelude - an introductory piece of music, most commonly the first movement of a suite.

* * *

That night, after putting Tyreese in the ground, they sat around the fire in silence as Rick stalked up and around the outer edge of the camp and Michonne kept an anxious watch from the rear. The forest was quiet - quiet enough that every rustling leaf sounded like a stumbling footstep or the murmur of voices whispering _wolves not far… wolves not far… _

The next morning at dawn, they staggered to their feet with little more than a few hours of sleep between them and clambered back into the van. They no longer had a destination and wished only to put as much distance between themselves and the massacre outside Richmond as possible. Even Abraham had lost his certainty that whatever was left at the nation's helm was worth the risk in getting there. Instead they drove west as far as the 288, then turned sharply northward before running out of gas just south of the river. From there they walked until the clouds that had been gathering ominously since that morning began to spit. They passed up several possibilities before deciding on the least welcoming and therefore least likely to already be occupied - a tiny gas station that appeared to have been ransacked many times over. Glenn and Rosita made a quick trip around the outer perimeter, but there was no sign of life within. Rick entered first with his python held at eye-level, closely followed by Daryl, Abraham, Sasha. They cleared it in seconds, then motioned for the others.

The interior was made up of one main room, a foul-smelling little bathroom, and a tiny office towards the back. The windows were so filthy with soot and grime that the twilight outside could barely penetrate. One glance was all they needed to know that anything worth it's weight had already been taken, but the shelter was enough. The rain began to lash against the siding, and peels of thunder rattled the window panes. Judith began to cry. Some had already stretched out on the floor and turned their faces to the wall while others sat up in silence. Carol and Sasha stood watch at the windows. Daryl sat in shadow, scratching something into the floorboards with his knife, and Maggie stared up blankly at the cracked ceiling. The storm raged on.

Just then, a low, warbling note joined the tumult, followed by another, then another. The sound was sweet and clear, like a familiar voice they hadn't heard in a long while. Even Judith's cries subsided as all strained to listen over the din. Maggie stood, her legs unsteady beneath her, and she, Tara, Glenn, and Michonne followed the sound to the office where Noah stood with his back to the doorway, a violin perched on his shoulder. The floorboards creaked beneath them and he started and turned, gesturing sheepishly at the picture-lined wall behind him and the blank space where the instrument must have hung.

"Guess nobody knew how to play, before."

"You do?" asked Tara.

"A little. My mom taught me."

Michonne smiled. "It's nice. Do you know more?"

Noah said nothing, merely tucked the violin under his chin and put bow to string. The storm outside was loud enough that there was no real risk in walkers or anything else being drawn by it, but inside the music filled the shelter like a warm breeze. Noah played until weariness overcame them, and the next morning when they awoke and spilled out onto the road once more, he took the violin with him.


	2. Chapter 2: Hidden

A/N: Carol reveals a secret over breakfast.

* * *

It was the first time Tara had felt full in weeks.

It was a gray, chilly morning, and already her boots were rubbing the blister on her heel raw, but someone had found black morels growing behind the squat house which, together with what was left of their dinner from the night before, made for a better meal than she could remember having since their first night at the church. Abraham and Rosita were already packing up their things, but the rest of them still lingered around the cook-fire clutching mugs of hot water and finishing their breakfasts. Glenn and Rick were reviewing a map, Michonne was laughing with Judith as Carl bounced her on his knee, and behind them Daryl was busying himself with cleaning and sharpening his knives. It was almost peaceful, just the low murmur of voices, the clink of cutlery, and the slow, steady scrape of steel being sharpened against stone. Beside her, Carol cleared her throat.

"I killed Karen and David."

The scraping stopped, as did all other noise around the campfire save for the crackling logs. Thirteen faces were fixed on Carol's as she set down her bowl and got to her feet.

"I did it to stop the spread of infection. They were sick, and I didn't think they could ever recover." Her eyes flickered over Glenn and Sasha then dropped to the ground. "I did it to protect us."

"Carol, what happened back at the prison - _that doesn't matter anymore_."

Rick's voice was low and earnest, but she brushed it aside. "Doesn't it? Maybe they would have recovered, or maybe our losses would have been greater if I hadn't. But I acted alone, and you said it wasn't my decision to make."

"_But we've both made that mistake_."

"Doesn't make it right," she answered softly.

Tara looked around the group as the weight of this announcement settled over them, her eyes landing on Glenn's shocked face. She remembered how he'd collapsed after they left the prison and how pale and clammy he'd been when he came to. Rick's eyes remained fixed on Carol's and, just over Eugene's shoulder, Tara could see Daryl still as marble, his narrow eyes flickering back and forth between them. Maggie spoke first.

"Karen and David were much sicker than the others, even my dad knew that. But if it had been Glenn or Sasha - I don't believe you'd have been able to do that. And that's what matters."

Carol looked taken aback and opened her mouth to reply, but Glenn said, "No, of course not. And even if you were wrong… your intentions were good… you we're trying to protect the group. We've all done that."

Even as he said it, Carol herself seemed unconvinced. Finally Sasha looked up at her with a hard expression.

"Did my brother know?" Carol nodded. Sasha's jaw clenched, then she took a breath and said, "Then he must have forgiven you. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here right now."

"My dad would have forgiven you." Maggie said it as though that settled the matter.

"I'm not looking for forgiveness," Carol answered, "I'm telling you so that you can make up your own minds about whether you still want me here."

Daryl stood very quickly, his hands clenched into fists, but Glenn said, "Of course we still want you here!"

Rick looked her in the eyes, and said, "What happened before, it was a mistake. _My mistake_. But we're only strong if we stick together." He looked around the group as though to find any dissenters, but no one said a word. "Now everyone knows, and we get it. You did it to protect us - _to protect the girls_. Right?"

"_Please_, Carol." Maggie's voice trembled. "We've already lost so much."

The shadow of something flickered across Carol's face. Then she nodded, and sank slowly back down to the ground. No one said anything for several minutes, and those that hadn't been a part of the prison group tried to make themselves very small. Then Maggie stood and began gathering dishes, and Carl went to change Judith, and Michonne went with him. Soon Rick and Glenn too passed by, each laying a hand on Carol's shoulder as they did so.

Tara though back to the prison, and her own secret. She thought about the things people do to protect the ones the love, and the mistakes they make along the way. She waited until Noah finished eating and stood to help Maggie with the wash-water before she leaned in close to Carol and whispered, "I get it. Nothing hidden, right?"

Carol stared blankly at her for a moment. Then, with a terse smile, she gathered up her dishes and mumbled something about refilling her canteen. Daryl's eyes followed her closely as she went.


	3. Chapter 3: Stairs

A/N: Daryl takes a moment to process things. The second in my list of things from S4/5A that were dropped completely and should not have been.

* * *

Daryl sat with his ass in the dirt, the rough bark of the tree behind him digging into his back.

He'd been camped out there in the bush since before dawn, hoping to catch sight of a whitetail on its way to the river from the doe-bed he'd scouted the day before. But the sun was creeping higher, and he hadn't seen so much as a rabbit let alone a buck. Instead he was poring over a well-worn scrap of paper that looked like it had been torn from a book and folded over many times. On it was a grid with five columns across and many rows down, some of which had already been filled out in Daryl's own messy handwriting.

It had been a solid week after Beth's death before he could bring himself to even acknowledge the manual he'd stashed away in his pack back in Atlanta, and several weeks after that before he felt he understood it enough to know what it wanted him to do - bringing him now to the form. On the header was a much longer name that didn't make the least bit of sense. Daryl just called it "stairs", like the first few steps of a long ascent.

Under the first column marked "Situation" Daryl had written many cryptic things, like S.d., M.d., A.d., and B.d., also l.p., f.R., and f.C.. Now he was staring directly to the right of these initials at the blank spaces under the second column marked "Feelings". Only a few of these had been filled out. Daryl gnawed on the end of his pencil, and tried to put his thoughts into words.

Rick had called him his brother. That had been a good feeling. Putting Beth in the ground, knowing he'd failed her and her daddy, that had been like a knife stuck between his ribs. Sophia all over again, only worse. He could still feel the weight of her in his arms with every step. And Carol - she was a good feeling, mostly. She was peaceful and familiar and something else mixed in that he couldn't name yet - excitement? That had to be a good thing, right? But there was hurt, too. Hurt that she didn't confide in him like she used to, hurt that she wanted to leave in the first place when finding her again had been the closest thing to a miracle Daryl had ever experienced in his life. Maybe that's why he hadn't really talked to her since Grady. It was just too much at once.

_Well. She hadn't talked to him since then either, so…_

Daryl scratched a single, insufficient word next to the letter C. and folded the paper back up again, stashing it in his breast pocket. He squinted up at the sun now shining through the tops of the trees. No chance of a deer, then. He'd figured as much even before setting out that morning, having gotten his scent all over the game trail when he'd crashed into it the night before chasing a bony-looking squirrel up a tree. The squirrel got away, and it was no small wonder now why every living thing in the forest was giving him the cold shoulder.

_It's always harder to hunt when you're desperate_.

* * *

A/N #2: The treatment method Daryl is trying to walk himself through is called Skills Training in Affective and Interpersonal Regulation, or STAIR. It is used to treat patients with PTSD, most commonly the survivors of childhood abuse. I just love the idea that Daryl would refer to it as "stairs". Finally, lest anyone think that his code is overly complicated - S.d. stands for "Sophia died", M.d. stands for "Merle died", and so on, l.p. is "lost prison", f.R. is "found Rick", and f.C. is obviously "found Carol".


	4. Chapter 4: Girlfriend

A/N: Tara helps a friend get through a breakup. This was actually one of the very first scenes I sketched out for this series, but the completist in me felt like I had to publish in some sort of chronological order and I really wanted to post a Sasha POV before getting her and Abraham together. Buuuuuuuuut everything immediately after 5A is super angsty and I really want to lighten things up a bit - _and I love this one_ \- so to hell with chronological order. Consider yourselves warned.

* * *

The shouting started around breakfast and ended abruptly when Abraham stormed out of the upstairs bedroom with his pack on his shoulders. Tara swore under her breath at him as they passed on the stairs, then slipped quietly through the door Rosita had just slammed shut. Inside, she was throwing everything she could get her hands on around the room, muttering furiously in rapid Spanish. Soon there was a knock at the door and Eugene poked his head around the corner.

"I appreciate that this is a difficult time for you, but these walls are thin, and I have been delegated to remind you that our being here is contingent on that herd we passed back in Leyman continuing due north. So you're gonna have to be quiet."

Rosita aimed her knife at the door, and Eugene quickly vanished behind it. He later returned that afternoon with a fifth of fluorescent blue liquor and Rosita, having wept all she could, unscrewed the cap and took a long pull before gagging.

Tara inspected the label. "Cotton candy flavored vodka, really?"

"No one else wanted it," Eugene answered. Rosita took another swig, then she slammed the bottle down between them and groaned.

"I haven't been single since I was fifteen. Now here we are at the end of the world, and I just got dumped." Her eyes welled up again. "I can't stay here with him, I just can't! I have to go - "

"No, hey, come on! You can't go, we're family now." Tara met Eugene's eyes with a smile. "You're stuck with us."

"Just like we're stuck with you," he added. Tara's smile fell flat.

That night, after Tara and Rosita had finished the bottle and Eugene had grown bored and left, they crawled out the bedroom window and lay sprawled on their backs on the pitched roof. The air was bitter cold, but it was quiet and the stars were brighter than Tara had ever seen. They talked about their families and what they were doing with their lives before the Turn. Then, when silence fell between them, Rosita turned to face her. Tara's eyes grew wide, then fluttered closed as Rosita leaned in. Her lips were soft, and she tasted as sweet as cotton candy. Tara could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Then something triggered in her mind, and she pulled away.

"No, wait - we can't."

"Why not?"

"Because…" Tara struggled to string her words together through the haze of cheap alcohol. Did she think Rosita was gorgeous when they first met? _Of course_. Did she still? Absolutely. But she always knew. "You like boys, remember? Big, burly boys with hair on their faces."

Rosita grinned. "Who says I can't like both?"

"It doesn't count if you're only doing it 'cause you're sad…"

Rosita's smile faltered, and she looked down at her hands. They straightened up. Rosita drew her knees in close to her chest, and she shivered in the cold.

"Sorry," she whispered, and Tara knew she meant it. "Guess I don't know how to be alone."

Tara shrugged, still stifling the little bit of disappointment gnawing in her belly. "Me neither. But hey, who says we're alone? We're still friends, aren't we?"

"Yeah, but - "

"Okay then. Friends is enough." She smiled and threw an arm over Rosita's shoulder. "'Sides, you and me - we're so much more than just somebody's girlfriend."

Rosita looked mildly stunned for a moment. Then she laughed and rested her head on Tara's shoulder. Tara looked up at the stars, and whispered, "_It's going to be okay_."


	5. Chapter 5: Plans

A/N: Rick feels the weight of leadership as he considers the group's next move.

* * *

Rick stepped out into the cool night air and took a breath.

The barn they were sheltering in was crowded and muggy and reeked of animals long since bolted. They were just outside Nelson now, and had picked over the surrounding houses and businesses till all that was left was dust and decay. He, Michonne, Daryl, and Glenn had spent over an hour looking over the map, yet were no closer to a destination than they had been when they left Richmond. The plan in the back of Rick's mind had always been to push out to the foothills then find somewhere they could fortify and settle - somewhere like the prison - but nothing came close. Instead they moved almost daily from place to place in search of the supplies they most desperately needed and had little luck in finding.

He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"How goes, Officer?"

Rick turned. Abraham sat watch in shadow with his back against the barn wall and his boots kicked up on an upturned wheelbarrow.

"We're talking about circling back around to Warrensville. Glenn says they weren't able to get into the strip mall the last time. Might be worth another shot."

"Isn't that the spot where some moron tried to incinerate a buncha walkers inside a Sbarro's?"

"Yeah, but there's also a sporting goods store in there. We need ammo, and it's our best lead."

Abraham held up his hands in mock defense. "Hey, I ain't arguing. We may be out in the middle of nowhere here, but I sure don't like the feel of our asses dangling in the wind. You say it's worth a shot, I'm behind you."

"We still need a plan for after. Can't keep going around in circles like this."

Abraham chuckled. "I had a plan once. Then that turned to shit, and me with it. Military has a way of making you mission oriented, and when the mission goes sideways, well…" He shrugged. "Sometimes you just gotta roll with the punches."

Rick nodded, thinking back to all the times things had gone completely ass-end up despite his best intentions. He could still hear Jim's ragged voice in his ear. _You hear that noise? That's God laughing while you make plans… _He squinted back at Abraham in the darkness.

"Sure you still wanna hitch your wagon with us?"

"You doubting yourself, Grimes?"

"Only every day."

"Yet you're still standing. How d'_you _think you've made it this far?"

"Luck," Rick answered honestly.

Abraham let out a short laugh, and brought his canteen to his lips. "Musta been damn lucky."

Rick cocked his head thoughtfully. "Sometimes. Got good people, too."

"I'll agree with that. Glenn, Maggie, Sasha? I ain't seen loyalty like that in a long time." He was quiet for a minute, then added, "Heard about that prison you was holed up in… sounds like it was a pretty sweet setup. Hard thing to repeat. Glenn said you cleared the place out with just nine of you? Man who can do that might just be able to survive this world… and see that his people do, too."

Rick let his words sink in, taken aback by his vote of confidence. Then Abraham stood and sauntered over until he was toe to toe with him in the moonlight. "Minute I met you, I knew you'd make a good general. Good general's hard to find. The old ego starts to take over." He looked Rick in the eye. "Just 'cause you been wrong before don't mean you'll be wrong next time. We learn from our mistakes, copy?"

Before Rick had time to do much more than nod, Abraham clapped him across the shoulder, and moved in the direction of the barn door.

"It's your watch now, General," he called over his shoulder. "Mind you keep it tight."

Rick kicked at the dirt, his hands on his hips, then peered out towards the dark mountain range in the west.

* * *

A/N: Sorry it took so long to post this, the holidays and a minor surgery threw me off track. I'd been really wanting to see a scene like this between Rick and Abe back in 5B, something with Abe overtly putting his faith in Rick's leadership. Still not 100% satisfied with the outcome, but this drabble series is as much an exercise in letting go of perfection and FINISHING things as it is about having fun with the characters and the setting, so there you go. Hope you enjoy!


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